


The Magic In Our Song

by kangelique



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Once Upon a Time Fusion, Bail Bond Agent Emma Swan, F/M, Gen, New York City, Singer Captain Hook | Killian Jones, Two-Handed Captain Hook | Killian Jones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-05-29 18:46:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15079364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangelique/pseuds/kangelique
Summary: She didn't know him. He didn't know her. But suddenly their lives come crashing together one fateful night in New York City, and it's then that strikes the beginning of the different man hidden beneath the image Killian Jones has built himself up to be, and it's also then that strikes the beginning of the wrecking ball to Emma Swan's walls. Because the second she heard him sing, her heart danced to the voice she never wanted to dance to. So what do you do when its two broken people facing each other but living towards different directions?.





	1. First Echo

**Author's Note:**

> So really,I'm working on 3 separate stories and then 2 more are still on the rise and probably another one as well so I will be slow to update as I jump from writing a chapter to another chapter, but all the same this story will have more than just a few chapters because well...I'm a sucker for slow burns with Emma and Hook. Who doesn't like that building up climax...this nerd right here does lol. Anyway,thank you for checking this first chapter out and hope you like it!

Chapter 1: First Echo

Emma groans when she brings the phone up to her ear, more than aware that the caller on the other side could hear her clear through the line, and not feeling the least bit ashamed by her rudeness because the fact that she knew who the caller was before she even looked at the image or pressed the green button was finally taking a toll on her patience for his need to check up on her, almost offending in a way. " _What_ , Graham?"

She made sure the 'What' was emphasized. Just for the little hope that her irritation could find its way perfect and clean through the line and settle deep in his head--at least deep in his head ti'll tomorrow--wherever he was; Probably home.

The thick irish accented voice comes full and awake, letting Emma guess that he hasn't found sleep yet even though they parted ways two hours ago at the office and the clock on the dashboard reads: 11:55 PM. Almost Saturday. "Just wanted to check up on you, Emma."

"Yeah, I see that," She cranes her neck to the left and releases a satisfied sigh when the bone in there pops from having been kept in the same position against the headrest in what felt was more than just two hours; She'd staked out longer than that, waiting for her prey to come. Or in this case, another idiot/greedy jerk that she was more than happy to send to jail. Just the thought that she would finally be catching him after all these months that he'd found a way to elude her every time, sent excited shivers up her arm and increased the tapping of her foot and finger on the steering wheel. Or maybe the shivers were from the cold of March; The bug's heating system had been dead for years, she barely even noticed it now, and coming around to fix it had been long since forgotten on her to-do list. But either way, excitement. "do you not have a life, Graham? You know, something  _other_ than checking up on your employee every five minutes?,"

He chuckled while the evident cracking of a dorito came through to her ear, sound too loud that it made her grimace. "Maybe not. But I'm also your friend, Emma, and that came before this whole boss thing happened, so...I say I'm within rights to equally care about my employee AND friend's safety while she's stalked out, in the middle of the night, in a car with some poor heating system, even after I specifically told her that we would continue the case later for better leads."

Emma huffed. "But I got the lead already."

"But it's not definite."

Her nose scrunched up, "Since when are any leads definite?"

Graham sighed. "You know what I mean. You know how the others went."

She gave him a breathy laugh devoid of any humor, rolling her eyes in the process. "Yeah, thanks for reminding me of all my past failures. I like the motivation, really boosts up my self-esteem on getting him this time."

"Self-esteem involves feelings of one's self. Feelings can't come to play at your job."

The scrapes on her arms and hands were still in their baby pink color from the ridiculous fall last week,begged to differ. Twice. On the edge of barely scabbing so her skin could return to its regular hue.

_I think he's earned some resentment now._

"My shift ended at nine, you can't talk to me about my job."

"Nine on the dot, it ended?"

"Well yes, Graham, when else would it."

He hummed, not saying anything for a few minutes, leaving her to think over her confirmation and wishing she could throw something through his window--maybe a nice big rock--when the realization of her five words settled. And he was just there, waiting for it to hit her.

"Damn it, go back to your netflix."

He broke out laughing. "Unfortunately the wifi is a bit slow tonight."

"Sucks to be you and have that line of cable,then," She deadpanned after the chatter between her teeth stopped with a bite to her bottom lip to close her mouth up, putting the phone between her thighs to rub some warmth back into her numb hands, and then looking up to the ajar in her window letting all the more cold air in to the already freezing bug; Not knowing when in her right mind had she chosen to roll the window even in the tiniest of specks, and also mentally cursing herself for having left her gloves on top her desk at the office when the compartment was empty of them.

His voice was playful, "There's a blizzard brewing," followed by a yawn, "I think I can cut them some slack."

She pursed her lips, squinting through the windshield. "Well nothing's falling yet."

"Yeah, it's supposed to come around one or two."

She nodded, seeming decisive only to herself. "Hot cocoa will be neccesa--"

A shadow moved past her car.

Her head immediately snapped to the street with the phone still in hand as she fumbled with the handle to open her driver's door, punching the button on the side with a little more force that probably didn't accomplish anything because it took her another wasted minute before the cold air finally burst in and she practically stumbled out onto the broken concrete from the alley.

"Emma? Did you--"

"Yes, I found him."

The street was somewhat crowded--but this was a city, when were cities NOT crowded?--but she still caught the black leather of his jacket slipping through two giggling girls speeding their way as she sidestepped around them and then craned her head up as far as she could, eyes squinting and going wide when she saw the jacket disappear around a corner, knowing he was walking at a faster pace than he usually did, and she was still an amount of people behind.

_Not a problem, I'll catch up._

Graham's voice came through the line again as she squeezed past two women looking down at their phones unable to see her coming, and then almost bumped her whole body into the book of a man reading down with the help of the lamp posts as his whole gaze was concentrated to the page, mouthing the words despite the music of the headphones that could be overheard out. "Is he--"

"He hasn't noticed met yet," Because she wouldn't put it past him and his intelligence to notice at the last second and then take off before she got the chance to handcuff him, like it had embarrassedly happened all those times before. So many times before that she'd already grown accustomed to his profile so much that she didn't even have to sneak a quick glance to her phone to be sure if she following the right man or not. She was sure of it now, and a smirk crossed her face as her casual walk behind him increased to longer strides her medium length legs could manage perfectly in her light brown boots down the pavement.

_Oh, you're so done this time Scarlett._

Merely a few feet away now.

Handcuffs jingled anticipatingly on the inside of her jacket.

Determination carried her forward despite the violent wind hitting her face with no regret of its chill, blowing her hair wildly around her head as she swatted the blonde strands away from her line of sight, frustating without its usual gray hat to tame it down.

So close. Any minute now. The thief hadn't even--

"SCARLET!"

All crap about coverage and sneaking up and him not noticing was thrown out the window on the bus ride to hell when he took off running into the traffic unexpectedly, and she immediately chased after him, not giving a damn if he heard her yell out his last name since he had already noticed her--probably since he'd passed her in the alley, dammit--, the annoyed honks and hard pitched screeches of brakes coming to a sudden stop as she held up her hands to let her pass and some responded by flicking her off or rolling down their windows to shoot greatly creative and the regular insults from their New York pissed off mouth. All of which she ignored, just as she ignored the increased set of questions coming to her ear from Graham's end when she almost tripped and then murmured a curse to herself for it, adjusting her eyes on the black jacket again before continuing the chase down another block.

She was panting hard, each gulf of air sent her stomach to whine in protest at her sides as she gripped a hand there to settle her uneven breathing without stopping her feet in any way; Sweat could even be felt at the top of her forehead, little drops of it accumulating to prove how much more than a block she'd actually run, but still she pushed herself on, thinking of the nice satisfaction she would have of finally throwing his insolent ass in jail after so many months and chases he'd eluded from not only her but also other co-workers.

_Come on, come on Emma, faster._

Scarlet cast a look back, cocking his head to the side while raising an eyebrow and sending her a mock grin of what he probably considered triumph when he threw himself onto the traffic lane again; angry honks arising around him when they were forced to come to sudden halts in an effort not to drive him over--although she'd take anything at this point--and even more when Emma grit her teeth and followed his trail through his ridiculous zigzagging around the cars, bumping into some but not dwelling long enough to let her catch a breath.

He stopped for a second once his feet were back on the pavement, effectively trying to decide which direction to take before she caught up; Her own boots having barely touched the pavement herself before he was already down the block to the left and then disappearing behind a swarm of people who she noticed were packed up body to body against some cafe's window, phones pressed up to the glass and even going as far to be jumping up and down in excited squeals--these coming from teenage girls--but her eyes caught the fair amount of women and even some men there as she threw herself into their own big group, squeezing past them as some yelled out "Hey!", sending her dirty looks, scowls, and glares, and even pushing her when she managed to open the cafe's door, only to discover the place entirely packed far worse than the lunatics outside.

The lights were flicking on and off above her, couldn't decide if it was on purpose or just because someone had forgotten to pay the electricity bill; Phones were recording with the hands of the people gripping them while swaying their arms in the air from side to side following along some male's voice with the hint of a guitar somewhere up front where a stage seemed to be set up; Loud screams suddenly exploded around her as her eyes popped to the damage it did to her hearing, fighting the urge to cover her ears and spin right back to the exit but refusing to go all the same to scan the crowd for that known black leather jacket that never seemed to change; Mystical fog seemed to come from the sides out of nowhere as the screams roared louder, painfully piercing her everywhere as the up and down jumping started and she almost fell back against every girl in here's unknown excitement, faces filled with longing, awe, and joy, like their happiness in this moment could not be stolen away even if someone came shooting for their attention.

She caught a few words from the song the male voice up front was singing, driving every human around her crazy: " _Is gonna be mine, is gonna be mine, is gonna be mine..._ "

For a moment, her body stood still. It was weird, was the best way she would be able to explain what came over her in the most wave-off fashion she could muster for anyone that had catched her feet freeze to the floor almost with their own sense of mind. Voice was startling sweet and dripping drops of honey--only minimal size drops--and not in the seductive way other men would push their voice to be in an effort to persuade her on how fun their mattress could be when she was late at night at the bar, having a drink. No, this voice was different. It did hold the bearings, the acquisition to be seductive to the crowd should he choose to, but that wasn't what made Emma stop in her tracks. It was the promises, slight softness, and just the hint of pain behind the lyric he let exposed enough to keep the crowd engrossed in and him engrossed into them with a manner entirely distinguishable. No way did it cease Emma's heart to little pieces of glee--the way she'd seen other girls break down into exaggerated cries and dramatic sighs about their singer on TV, or when the guy decided to out of nowhere come with this legendary old worn guitar and start singing from the depths of a whatever because it would totally make up for all the lies and mistakes and downright trouble his presence and their so called "love" had sent to the innocent girl's way--but it did ring through her ears in an almost deafening sound that she'd be content to fall asleep to, and then it coursed through her veins the way blood seeped the pathway down her arteries, taking over every organ as it reached the beating thing her cage had unknowingly let out in the open for his voice to punch right through and give the torn up thing a sense of life the same way blood, oxygen, and h2o made sure to give her hers.

Like his voice echoed safety.

Echoed found.

And almost shouted hom--

She snapped out of it, running thoughts in her head being shoved to some file in her brain that she would make sure to burn to the ashes of forgotten later as her own feet shoved people out of the way, not giving a damn when she had him in her sights again, following all the way to when he jumped on stage and then she tripped over a cord that she felt get caught up in the front of her boot, effectively cutting off all the power in the place as bursts of surprised panic shot all around her at the same time she knocked into someone, clutching her hands onto muscled biceps that almost caused for a panicked cry of her own to burst out of her as she sent them both toppling to the floor hard, a stool flying right out from the under the person who had been sitting there as she landed on top of a smooth and hard chest with arms encased around her waist to support both their heavy thuds as an "Augh" came close to her neck, the sound of wood clattering next to her as her forehead accidentally bumped against the someone's head, momentum having been completely lost.

Gasps of surprise and then clicks from the devices still hung up in the air blinded Emma with their sudden bright camera flashes towards her as her eyes staggered to make sense in between the coming and going of the faltering light bulbs above her, until she blinked back down and her eyes settled on the light blue staring back at her in confusion; Her own face probably mirroring the same knit of eyebrows and small pucker out of her bottom lip, mouth caught between forming words and gazing down instead.

Two large hands suddenly appeared at her sides as a tall shadow came to stand behind the man's head, and then the two large hands were gripping at her arms, forcibly pulling at her to stand up as she pushed against the harsh touch reflexively, muttering out curses and letting out indignant grunts when the two large hands only dug his nails in deeper to keep her still, forcing her feet to comply to where he led her behind a curtain she hadn't noticed before when she jumped on stage after--

_Dammit, Scarlet._

She desperately bobbed her head to whichever sides she could manage in the vice-like grip she was bounded to, unwilling to admit that he'd escaped her again--AGAIN FOR GOD'S SAKES!--but having to do so when the lights from where they were now standing turned on above her and the darkness was gone to reveal a door just a few feet away that had 'EXIT' marked on top, finally making Emma grit her teeth in fury and shake herself free of the hands restraining her as footfalls sounded behind them, and she turned around to see the man she'd knocked down with another bodyguard--seriously?--trailing behind him as he came to stand in front of her.

"Are you alright, love?"

Concern was actually etched onto his features to her surprise.

One of his eyebrows quirked up and a sly grin came to surface when she only fixated him with a pointed look and crossed her arms against his question, shrugging.

"Yeah I'm fine, thanks."

She should be apologizing for all the ruckus she'd just caused for him and...whatever was going on before she arrived, but she was pissed. Beyond pissed. So much that she actually felt like she could turn around and punch blood out to the bodyguard who'd restrained her so harshly, eyeing the exit door right in front of her that the blue-eyed was effectively blocking by standing in her path as he hummed to her snap in what felt like mocking consideration when he met her eyes again in a downright smirk.

Her nostrils flared.

_Jerk._

With a fleeting roll of her eyes she walked past him as his smirk turned into a full out grin, only causing her to respond by pushing the exit door harder than was necessary when he chuckled; Protests from the bodyguards arising behind her until he calmed them with a 'It's fine,mate, the lass can go', and the door finished closing with a slight creak of pain as the cold air hit her face, harder than expected, letting her feet carry her all the way to her waiting bug as she silently fumed with the irritating blush still staining her cheeks in a warm light pink in the night.

* * *

 

 ~~~~It did snow as Graham had declared over the phone. The white flakes started falling down heavy almost right after Emma arrived to the grey ten stories high building hosting her apartment, and somehow managing to look more gloomy and solitary than the per usual. Or maybe that was the only way her eyes could persist it as; All the more proving the fact when the emptiness hit her like a fresh summer wind as greeting, so she responded by slamming the door shut, huffing a breath and then going over to the sink for a glass of water, which she took with her to the counter as she then placed herself on top of a stool. Sitting there to watch the snow for an unsure amount of hours, mesmerized but not in the way she wished she could be.

Saturday was her day off, the same as everyone else in the office except for Graham; She worked the most hours, took up the most days, so much so that Graham had been the one to insist that she take Saturday off to give her at least one decent day in the week to have a life outside of work, exaggerating on the ''Stubborn woman" part he never failed to mention with a shake of his head each time she waved his "Take the day off, Emma" off when he came up to her with it, or when he was constantly at her desk, even in a brief passing to get coffee on the other side to say "At least consider Saturdays" until she finally just agreed if it meant he'd stop pestering her with it. And it was that day in the entire week that she always felt drag the longest to end; Ironic because most people considered it the other way around.

Not her.

Bending down to quickly snatch up the keys from under the rug outside the office, she breathes a sigh as the cold air hits her back and then unlocks the door with a little click as the last of her breath disappears into the fade of white as it is carried away by the wind, closing the door behind her. Stopping at Graham's desk to drop the second pair of keys on top of a pile of manila folders and scattered ballpoint pens, she then walks over to her own desk while unzipping her jacket and shrugging it off to settle it over her chair, knowing it won't be long before he walks in himself to find her already here.

Always the earlier one.

Her eyebrows knit at the growl that erupts from the inside of her middle almost immediately after her computer sparks up to life and begins loading rather slower than usual, leaving her to sneak glances at the coffee shop on the other side of where the office was. The lights from the coffee shop weren't on yet; They'd normally open at seven on the dot so she looked at the time on her phone, pursing her lips slightly before setting it back down on the surface.

_I can wait._

Mind beginning its seethe from Will Scarlet having escaped her again--

_Bastard. Lucky ass bastard--_

The front door chimes open but she barely registers it, keeping her eyes glued to the screen in front of her, reading over promising locations he could be hiding in as a familiar figure in dark blue jeans comes to stand at the foot of her desk, and she looks up to Graham's smile and tilt of his head to the open box of donuts he has outstretched to her. She just stares at it for a second, confused, and then reaches a hand in to pull out a bear claw, taking a much needed bite. He chuckles, closing the lid.

"Thanks," She says to him around a mouthful; He nods, turning around to go place the box on a small rectangular table set in between everyone's desks against a pure white wall for the rest of the coming in workers.

"So.." He drawls out to catch her attention, and her eyes turn away from the screen again to look at him leaning against someone's desk in front of her, arms crossed.

Bobbing her head to him once, she raises an eyebrow, "Yes?"

"So what happened Friday?"

She scowls automatically, although it wasn't directed at him. "I mean, it's obvious. I didn't get him."

One side of his mouth was twitching upwards like he was trying to not find whatever joke--lord knows what joke--funny, and she only blinked back at him, feeling an annoyance begin to rise.

"What, Graham?"

He shook his head, motioning instead to the black smartphone sitting next to her hand, apparently deciding to switch the subject. "You got a new phone?"

"Oh,yeah,"' She sighed looking down at it and picking it up to mindlessly swipe at the screen with her finger. "Had to. I lost the other one in the chase."

And she'd been fairly mad about it too once she discovered it missing from her pocket and was forced to go to the company the next day to get a new one, swallowing the annoyance at having to put in her contact numbers again, until she realized, she didn't have that many.

Graham only hummed at the recent change, extending out his arm to hold out his open palm for her to hand him the new phone so he could put in his phone number. She shrugged as he did it, turning her focus back to the computer when a rolled up magazine of sorts was suddenly plopped on her desk and she looked up at Graham to see him grinning down at her, face having fully broken out into it as she glared at him, wanting to know what was SO funny that--

"What the hell?!" Graham burst out laughing as her eyes widened in shock and her mouth was left agape to the cover of  _Rising Stars Weekly._

Because there, right on the cover, was her and the man she'd knocked down with the headline on top reading: MYSTERIOUS NEW BLONDE GIRL FALLEN HEAD OVER HEELS FOR KILLIAN JONES!

And just. What the hell.

 


	2. Broken Pick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!, chapter 2 finally here and this time in Killian's point of view. The chapters will be alternating between both him and Emma, so Emma's next. Thank you for everyone that checked out the first chapter and left kudos! I really love it and appreciate it! so hope you like!

Chapter 2: Broken Pick

Killian only shifts slightly on his position on his spot on the floor, adjusting his pick to the guitar's strings and preparing himself to strum by taking his ever calming inhale and then releasing it to then settle his eyes on caressing the soft wooden material that would allow music to flow from his fingertips in just a moment. It actually managed to coax a smile out of him because of the memory the old pick sparked up, reminding him of a younger version of himself when his eyes saw the grandness and beauty of the ship instead of the plain white wall he was sitting cross-legged in front of--butterfly style. His feet took him barefoot into the water as it immediately seeped in with its present cold--the sensation of it always catching him off guard in the morning despite how many times, practically every day of his life that he'd run straight toward it--but instead the obvious prickly, ruby red of a carpet that was underneath him was enough to break him free of what wasn't the reality anymore, along with the wiggle of his naked toes that were in between the colors of butter cream and close to a porcelain doll skin tone, just like the rest of him underneath the gray t-shirt and navy blue sweatpants. 

_Bloody hell._

His jaw clenched toward the disgustingly disapproving choice of color the hotel had bought the carpet in-- _had they been forced to buy such a retched thing like that?--_ and the toes of both his feet curled in on themselves before his hand threw the pick to the wall without warning, and he arose from the floor, letting the guitar fall from his hold with a soft  _thud_ that he wished would have been louder because then maybe it would have helped restrain his frustation in just a little longer before the irritation that had slowly been eating at him over the course of many pent up months finally let out, and his guitar would be the victim of it in pieces.

It seemed fitting.

But he liked to think of himself as a patient man--maybe too patient--so instead he let his feet take him to the hotel's bathroom without allowing so much as a glance back to what he'd left on the floor, deciding that a good splash of water to his face was what he needed to bring his senses to a level of right again. But he'd been sure of it when he woke up, that those creative juices he'd been missing we're finally deciding to let themselves come to light, so he obeyed, practically jumping out of his bed in excitement, only to come out of the bathroom and see the small living room covered in his failures.

And he'd only been in New York for a couple of days.

Still it seemed like more than that by the way the balled up pieces of notebook paper were scattered everywhere for the poor maid of the hotel to clean up.

The vibration coming at his leg was not enough to take him out of his stoop as he sighed anyway, digging his hand into his pants pocket to take out his phone and then only heave a much more louder, dramatic sigh as he plopped down on one of the available couches upon seeing the ID caller, bringing the phone up to his ear after sliding the green button and bracing himself for the voice on the other end that was no doubt about to chew him out, but frankly, he could care less at the moment.

"Look, I'm not in the mood for--"

"Meet me downstairs for breakfast in 15 minutes."

Quick as that. Short as that, the line on the other end went dead, and he scoffed, completely annoyed he couldn't be allowed one single damn day in peace without being jerked into another discussion about his ever-so-successful career.

Right. Because THAT was working out for him so far.

With one last shake of his head, he opened the door, only after getting out of his t-shirt and sweatpants in exchange for something casual but leaving his tousled hair like it was--because God forbid someone see him in what he went to sleep in and unnecessarily swoon while he was eating his pancakes--and also last minute reaching over for his leather jacket because he didn't go anywhere without something black and made of leather in place on him.

Entering the hotel's breakfast/ lunch / and dinner area, he quickly spotted her seating at a table for two by the wall with the open seat in front of her, meaning he would only have to be facing her while they ate and he wouldn't have to be bombarded with random fangirls coming up to him so early in the morning--9:22 AM to be exact. The table itself was a wise choice; Secluded off to the side of everyone else's more open in the middle ones and at the same time far enough that he could actually see himself having an enjoyable breakfast despite the unpleasant conversation sure to come through. But she hated it too. And so did he. That was actually one of the few rare things they agreed on: The interruptions. But it also made him question why she chosen this profession in the first place when she hated being so close to the attention.

Now the praise, on the other hand. That was a different story.

"Well good morning to you, your majesty," Killian arched an eyebrow as he slid into the chair, causing the table to shake a little in his movement but not startling her as she kept her eyes focused on the menu she was holding; Not even getting an eye roll from her as she usually did whenever he remarked her with the nickname he was hell bent on calling her to her extreme annoyance, up until a few years ago.

"Jones," She only addressed him with a nod of her head to the menu waiting on his side, and he did the rolling of his eyes instead, sighing as he picked up the menu and skimmed over his options, already knowing this would be another long discussion Monday's were not meant for.

The server came over to take their orders and then quickly left with their menu's in hand, leaving him with nothing to distract himself with as she picked up her phone and focused her entire gaze on whatever was on the screen, letting him squirm in the dragging silence she seemed so comfortable to be in if it meant watching him act like a worm under her foot. She was pissed, that much he could tell. Usually she was a head straight into and getting right to the point type of woman--even her clothes reflected her seriousness with the ever constant pantsuits and silk blouses that were always dipped in dark colors to be tucked in at the golden belt, never once had he seen her wear a skimpy dress or anything of the casual variety, not even sandals in the summer for God's sakes, and specially never a more provocative lipstick in exchange for the subtle ones always neatly put into her appearance every day since the first he'd met her--but she seemed to be letting him deal with the opposite now. It reminded him too much of how he always directed the conversation, making her patience run low with his long taken time to respond, and he definitely did not like to be the one on the other end of it. So finally, when their orders were set in front of them, he brought his fist down to the table as she moved to take a bite of her scrambled eggs.

She arched an eyebrow, and he rolled his head back in frustation before setting his eyes back on her with a glare and gritted teeth as he spoke.

"Just get out with it, Regina."

She smiled. "What's wrong, Killian? You don't like being treated with a taste back of your own medicine?'

He rolled his eyes, already exasperated, and the tapping of his foot increasing under the table by every passing second. "Alright, I get it. I behave like a disrespectful git every time you need to discuss something with me, but I'm here, and I'm listening, so could you please just get out with what I already know you're going to say?,"

Nodding her head in mock consideration, she pursed her lips. "So you're already very aware, aren't you?"

Killian inhaled sharply, resisting the urge to roll his eyes again, jaw clenching. "For God sakes woman, just get it off your chest."

She sighed at him, perfectly content on flipping her short hair up to her neck back before setting her dark brown eyes on him that he felt threatened to look away from her suddenly intense gaze as she spoke in a short, clipped tone. "The concert on Friday at the cafe. You didn't finish it."

Leaning back in his chair now that she had spoken her words out loud, he finally let himself relax by nodding his head towards her in response. "Aye."

That broke her.

"Don't give that 'aye' crap, Captain Guyliner, because--"

He scoffed, throwing his hands up. "I'm not even wearing any!"

Regina rolled her eyes, quickly dismissing it with a wave of her hand. "Whatever. You WILL finish that concert at the cafe, Killian, and I don't care how much you--"

"But it's hardly a concert, don't you think so,love?. More like a mini performance on my wonderful part." He quipped with a slight smirk appearing.

Shaking her head, she set her fork down with a clatter that rattled her plate. "It is equally as important as anything you give to those people. You need to start treating these set-ups in small places that I'm getting for you differently because those set-ups you're continuously walking out on--"

Killian scoffed, acting outraged. "I'm not walking out on it."

"So because of one mistake you choose not to do it anymore?"

He merely shrugged. "She was quite beautiful, I'll admit."

Regina shook her head, rolling her eyes and then addressing him with a pointed look. "I wasn't talking about the blonde."

"Oh," He rolled out, ending with a click of his tongue. "then what, love?"

"The lighting. And the auto-tune."

He scoffed, flicking his wrist with an open hand at seemingly nothing. "It's not my bloody fault if the manager of that nice establishment has a problem with paying the electricity bill--"

Regina finally growled, putting both hands on the white silk cloth that covered their table's surface. "You know it's not that, Killian. Stop giving me this crap because you know perfectly well that you don't need electricity to play your guitar," she huffed, "I mean for god's sakes, Killian, you are practically KNOWN for that acoustic guitar, for playing, it's how you even came to this!," letting out a humorless laugh, she continued, "And now you're going to come to me and tell me that that is your reason for not following my orders? Now that is--"

"I don't--"

She cut him off immediately, stating it through gritted teeth. "Yes. You. Do."

It made his jaw clench, but she ignored it.

Instead, she leaned forward to rapidly whisper," These set-ups aren't going to cover your failure for much longer," he cringed at the word 'failure', "it doesn't matter that you've released two albums--"

"Exactly," He held up two fingers, wiggling them at her. "Two."

"And do you think they're going to care about that when all these set-ups blow over and they realize what you've been denying to them for so long?"

Pushing off from the table, he stood up. "I think I need a walk."

She blinked up at him, leaning back in her seat as she watched him drop a few couple of twenties next to his still full plate.

"What?"

"You heard me."

Her voice stopped him as he spun around, barely sticking out a foot in the direction of the exit. "Your concert at the cafe was rescheduled to Thursday. And I said you would fulfill it."

"Aye," He responded without turning around. "I'll be there."

And then he was gone to roam the streets. 

* * *

 

It didn't bring much help in clearing his head, but he carried on nonetheless, and somehow his feet ended up taking him all the way to Brooklyn Bridge, historical sight. It didn't occur to him why here of all places when he could have easily gone into some cafe nearby or sit down to wallow alone on some bench in a park not too far from the hotel, but instead he let himself be led away from there as fast as possible and now, catching sight of the blue, he knew why.

The water. 

It was beautiful even in its half-frozen state, but the fact that this was too coincidental to the memory that had served to start his morning with a bitter taste only surfaced up annoyance with a tinge of sadness because it was the damn morning scene repeated all over again. Only this time instead of the pick, it was the water below,itself, as he stared down at it, a small smile breaking over his face. Because he could see it. Right there was his younger self running straight over the top of the water, as if he could really have the power to walk with the waves as his steady surface. That had always been his calm. His rock. The ground to anchor to. But it had also been the cause of so much loss. All came crumbling down in a matter of days. And yet he was still drawn to it, a part of him begged to go back, to forget, and to jump back in to what he'd come to believe was his passion before the old pick and strings came to light and suddenly now he was here.

That seemed to be the memory of the day.

_Torture, more like it._

He could imagine himself grimacing as his barefeet ran over the cold water because despite it all, it was still the winter season in New York on the customary of March. And as if to emphasize the temperature more, the clouds overhead seemed to expand their definite lasting for a while gray in their coloring, without the slightest hint of sunshine to cast over the buildings, much to his disappointment.

"It's nice, isn't it?"

Killian's head snapped to the man standing a few feet away from where he was standing; He was overlooking the water with a more moderate smile than his, letting on that he was actually enjoying the view and not caught in some crossfire of a memory, and just simply being able to appreciate the sight.

It sparked up jealousy, because here was this man, probably close to his thirty years of age, bundled up with a red scarf around his neck and a black puffy jacket where he kept his hands tucked into the pockets, and the yellow blonde hair cut into the style of a short crew leaning close to the professional cut hairstyle, and that wasn't him. Not him standing around carefree, simply starting off the Monday morning with a good view.

No. His conscious had brought him here.

The man chuckled softly, and he realized he'd never answered his question.

"Tough start today, huh?"

_Not just today, mate._

"Oh,uh...quite yes," He stammered, shuffling his feet. "something like that."

The man nodded in response; What served as more weird is he could actually feel like maybe he understood in a way despite being two simple strangers overlooking a similar view with different minds of it.

"Yeah, we've all gotten one those days." He turned to see the man turn his head to give him a smile of assurance. "But don't worry, it doesn't last forever." 

Killian actually chuckled at the leaning toward cheesy choice of words, and the man cracked another smile, walking over to where he stood, extending a hand out.

"My name's David, by the way."

"Oh. Right," He only stared at his hand for a second before nodding his head and accepting the handshake. "Nice to meet you, David, I'm..." He waited but no recognition came over his features, no gasp and ' _Oh God, you're Killian Jones!'_ ,so he said it with more affirmation. "Killian Jones, mate, at your service."

David nodded with a friendliness echoing off him. "Alright then, Killian," He glanced over his shoulder. "I have to go, my wife is coming, but it was nice meeting you."

"The same goes for me, David."

Killian watched him go, about to begin his dreadful walk back to the hotel when David turned around, calling out to him. "You should consider coming to Storybrooke!"

His brow furrowed as he took a step forward and called back. "What?"

David only shrugged, "It's a town, perhaps you'd like to escape the city for a while."

And then with one final wave, he was gone, and Killian was left to think over his words as he saw him disappear farther down the bridge with a fair-skinned woman slung under his arm until they were too far to see anymore, and then he shook his head, beginning his walk in the opposite direction.

_How did I get this bloody far?_   was his occurring thought again and again when one quick research on  _Maps_ told him that the bridge was 3 hours away from his hotel, and yet it had somehow felt less and then coming back felt even harder when every block he passed in his quick pace made him question if he should even go back to his room--or more like a goddamn apartment, than a room--at all, because what would he do?.

Certainly not try playing again. Specially after the discussion with Regina that had left him more than a bit peeved, even managing more so than he already was with nobody else but himself.

But really, why should he go back?. The 'concert' was rescheduled to Thursday, meaning he would have 3 full days off beforehand to do whatever he pleased, and yet he sure as hell didn't want those days.

"Dammit," He collapsed himself onto a bench, truthfully too close to the public eye; It was a miracle no one had spotted him in the past 3 hours he'd walked from the hotel to the bridge, and then another hour coming back when he'd just plain out decided 'Not yet'. So instead of lazying it there, he picked his ass up after a minute and then moved further into the park--that he'd quite randomly ended up in,  _What is up with all these randoms today?--_ where it was completely free of people. Solitary enough that he was hidden, thanks to the cover the smushed together trees provided that crossed their branches and leaves against each other, and also secluded enough that the faint voices of children playing in the playground could still be heard even though he was a fair distance away, and even though it was still damn well cold.

Lying down on the one available spot there was on the ground, he decided to hell with his clothes as he felt the coldness from the plain white snow come to touch his leather on the back and then automatically felt as it sifted past his jeans and met with skin. He got used to it after a while, and it served as a distraction when he only focused on the wet and cold sending slight shivers up his body as he just lay there, not moving an inch, simply breathing.

Finally running a hand over his face and exhaling a long, loud sigh, he took his gaze away from the blob of clouds he'd been staring at and instead took out his phone--blessedly still in the front pocket of his jacket, zipped up--to do what every other celebrity did once in a while: Google themselves.

_Let's see what damn news you got on me this time, you gits._

His eyes immediately went to the most recent one that popped up in less than a second; He squinted up at the screen before decidedly propping up on his elbow for support when he turned to his side instead, letting out a snort when he saw the headline.

"Mysterious new blonde girl fallen head over heels for Killian Jones..."

Now THAT was something to laugh about since he'd known the girl--woman--for all of 5 minutes before she'd stomped out the door, looking offended for whatever reason, and he'd been left impressed. It was the fastest he'd ever seen a girl run from him. Ever. Always the opposite happening, and yet he'd somehow managed to piss her off enough that she'd looked past him the entirety of their short conversation. And he had to admit, it had made him stumble a bit, reflecting back to a time when he hadn't been as smooth with words, blushing an embarrassing crimson whenever he found himself in front of a female, and her there had only increased those days of his high school years in a weirdly form until he remembered who he was after a good blink. He'd honestly wondered of her that night when he deemed everything canceled and everyone had returned to their respectful homes, and he'd just stared at the ceiling for a while, wanting to know who could have made her so mad because in a way he knew her anger and frustation hadn't been really directed at him. And her beauty had stayed on his mind too--for more hours than he would probably ever tell anyone--until it had gotten lost in the hazes of Saturday and Sunday, and only now did it come back to him fresher than ever when he saw their picture-- _Clearly taken by a fan--_ decked out right in front of him, helping relive all the little details he'd managed to gather of her face.

Zooming out of the image, he scrolled down a little to begin reading the words that made the article, eyebrows lifting in amusement as he continued through the whole thing.

**_Young rising star Killian Jones, famous for the release of his two worldwide known albums 'Ocean's call' (2014) and "Revenge Heart" (2016) gave the surprise to millions of fans home to the big apple, New York City, where he unexpectedly came to perform at a local coffee shop around the time of midnight. Although nobody was aware of the singer coming to play, since no news of any sort had been advertised of this, carefully keeping it a secret, many supportive and adoring fans still came to light of this and showed up, quickly gathering inside and outside of the small shop. Unfortunately, the singer was only able to get through the minimum of two songs from 'Ocean's call' and one song from 'Revenge Heart' before it was cut short due to an electrical problem many blame on the appearance of a mysterious blonde woman, claiming that the woman had jumped on stage in pursuit of someone while others believed that the young star was being attacked._ ** **_"I was so scared for him," Said a young seventeen year old girl, Lucy Harrison, who had come with her best friend to the cafe and then been shocked to witness the woman knocking Jones over, saying that the woman had had a hidden gun in the inside of a custom red leather jacket. While many were outraged to the theory that their star might have been on the verge of an attack, other concluded to the idea that the beautiful blonde woman was actually Killian Jones' girlfriend because shortly after being knocked over, the singer disappeared and the woman was gone without a trace, leaving many to think that perhaps the singer had taken her back to his hotel with him and that perhaps they were both staying there since there was no further sighting of either of them and no word as to if the star would continue his concert after only three songs. Regina Mills, Killian Jones' agent following all five years of his rise in the music industry, gave no note and refused to answer any questions in regard to the star and potential girlfriend, only apologizing for the unexpected cancelling of the concert. But many fans were left on the edge, not only because Killian Jones had failed to deliver a full performance, but also because up until now the young star's love life had been a wallow in itself, causing many emotions to rise and fall in both sadness and happiness to believe that their beloved singer had finally found someone; Pictures of them kissing on stage and his arms wrapped around the woman's waist to protect her from getting hurt during their fall only enforcing the theory that this is a couple waiting to come out to the public. But while this is a topic to research further in, the singer himself has not made any comment on social media on whether these ideas are true. Many are left to wonder if this was truly real, or was the sudden appearance of this woman just another hoax to keep everyone invested in the singer? , now that the downfall of his music career has taken turns south._ **

He wanted to both laugh and hurl the phone away in his anger.

He briefly wondered how the 'Mysterious blonde' had felt about this--IF she'd read it. Might she have read this already?. What had her reaction been?. Pissed for sure. With just the small amount of time he'd had with her, he knew she was no fan of his. And somehow that made him happy, knowing she wasn't. Any other girl or woman would have been practically fainting in the excitement of being thought of as his girlfriend, and yet he could see the initial shock, anger, and disgust being more her style.

_It's nice for a change._

He shook his head,  _You don't even know her._

Sighing, he dropped his head back to the snow; The subtle little hints the writers had dropped in the article about him and his music danced around before his eyes in a taunt.

_The downfall of his music career..._

_Taken turns south..._

_To keep everyone invested..._

_If this was truly real..._

_Leaving many to wonder..._

_Just another hoax..._

Cruel whispers, all to remind him, to never let him forget.

"Never letting me forget..."

* * *

 

"Excuse me, sir, are you okay?"

Killian startled awake, immediately realizing that he'd dozed off when his hands felt around and came up with white between his fingers, eyes blinking away the blurry to recognize his surroundings, and then look up in his haze to see a couple staring down at him with a mixture of confusion and concern.

"Uh...uh,yes,yes,I'm alright," He scrambled to stand up, heat coming to hug his cheeks as he finally found his balance with a grunt, hurriedly dusting off the flakes from his clothes when he realized it had begun to snow again, so he stopped, looking at the couple quickly and then turned on his heel. "Thank you. Have a nice day."

He didn't look back when they responded 'You're welcome'. Instead he sped up his pace to get as far away from there as possible, thinking ' _I have to get to the hotel, I have to get to the hotel, I have to get to the hotel ' ~~~~_ ~~~~until he realized, there was no one waiting for him there.


	3. Truly Akin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter did take me so much longer than the last two, but I'm happy for how it came out because the song (SPOLIER! AN ORIGINAL SONG) for Killian took some time for me to write up, think of the lyrics and how it would fit into Emma's chapter and all that good stuff. Before even starting on this story though, I had already written a song for Emma and Killian titled "You Came In" and I could have used that one but it just didn't go with it, so that my friends is why chapter 3 was such a long wait. No more waiting now, hope you like it!

Chapter 3: Truly Akin

Emma reread the words again, internally cringing at the way her face had been caught on someone's camera--because although she'd never taken much caring to making a big deal out of how she looked, like the rest of the female population seemed to do and that the other half of the female population that was famous and dying in money also seemed to do even more, she still had to admit this was a bad one, embarrassing kind of bad--while Graham still roared with laughter in front of her, trying to cover it up with forced coughs but only managing to make himself more red in amusement as he stumbled back, needing to clutch the edge of the desk behind him for support, until finally she took her eyes away from the article and plain out smacked him in the arm with the magazine. "Can you stop laughing?!"

He held his hands up, trying to nod while he managed to dodge another slap of the magazine and ended up doing a half twirl away from her, accidentally knocking down a cup that'd been used to hold pens, causing them to fall and scatter on the floor as he tried to control himself but his foot slipped, and it only made him heave in his laughter harder until he was finally gasping for air, and Emma was trying to suppress a smile while pointedly glaring at him to get her annoyance across. "Alright...alright, I think it's all...all out now, all done."

"You sure?," She grit her teeth.

He straightened up, nodding, and then kneeling down to pick up the pens; She took the opportunity of him not looking to let her smile spread across her face before she heard him begin to chuckle again and instantly bit her lip, forcing a frown to replace it instead as she looked down at him and then watched him stand up, placing the cup back on the desk with all the pens rightfully back in it before he turned to meet her eyes, letting out a small cough that almost made her break her hard stare.

Almost.

"Oh, come on, Em, you should have seen your face,:" Graham smiled at her sweetly, and she didn't understand what had been so funny about seeing her reaction or why a slight heat seemed to creep into her cheeks when he called her 'Em', but either way she shook them both off, sending both to hell where the magazine she was still holding should be.

She scoffed, "What the hell are you, Graham? 12? This isn't middle school."

"For the record, we did not go to school together," He sidestepped around her to go over to his desk, leaving her to stand there with the frown still in place as he sat down in his chair and it squeaked in protest.

"Thank god," Emma muttered under her breath, not turning to him as she went back to her desk and deliberately plopped onto her chair, crossing her legs and picking up her half-eaten bear claw as she opened the magazine again to the page where the article about them was, biting her lip as she bent her head down a little to get a better look of the photos claimed to have been of them 'kissing' when it was just her hair falling past the side of her face and accidentally covering his like a yellow curtain, making it seem like their lips were touching behind it because of how very close they'd been to each other, but really they'd just bumped heads and then almost panicked--or she, because he'd acted calm after the coming shock of her on top of him--in the middle of the stage; How she was suddenly able to remember all of it, from how close his breath had come at her neck to the smirk he'd given her after asking if she was alright when she'd knocked HIM down, when that had happened two days was beyond her. And she'd truthfully hadn't spent at least one of those days thinking of the way his hands had wrapped around her waist so naturally as they fell, or the way his chest had felt under her hand when she met with blue eyes that made her imagine a summer sky in New York instead of the gray clouds currently covering over the entire city.

No. She hadn't spent the rest of her night after coming back from the cafe to lay down on her bed, restlessly twisting and turning and tugging at the covers, even going as to repeatedly punch her pillow to get it just right until she finally gave up and sighed, focusing her gaze on the ceiling and letting her mind drift to the features she'd managed to gather of his face--or that had been more up in HER face--just like she remembered doing in the foster home when she would come to lay down in bed in a room that would never feel like her own and would let her mind drift off to the lies she imagined for herself that one day a king and queen would come to make her their princess and give her a room in the palace of their home where it would feel like her own. Like really her own.

A room that would be full--but not in the toys Santa would bring--in the bedtime stories her mother and father would weave at night as she listened attentively from where they sat on the edge looking down at her with smiles that promised protection, until she was finally able to forgot about the monster hidden in her closet and instead was lured to sleep, confirmed everyday that they would be there in the morning when she woke up. Or a room that would have color--but not in the one that referred to what paint her walls would be in--in the way the inside glowed with light and radiated warmth and gave her exactly what every room in the foster home lacked and what every room in any adoptive parents' room lacked despite the feeling that came with someone finally decided, when someone finally chose her to take her to be a part of their family, until finally she realized that all they wanted to give her was a room but not HER room. Not the one she'd been dreaming of, not the one that had the glow and warmth she wished about for the longest period of time when she was still a kid and didn't know any better, because then she did know better and was able to see what was in every adoptive parent's home towards her: The lack of love.

Sure, they could pretend. Or try the first three days. But it quickly gave away that she wasn't what they wanted and therefore could never have a room of her own because sometime a few weeks she would be sent back to square one, and that would turn into a pattern.

Up until age 7, when she finally stopped caring that it was a pattern.

And yet some flicker of hope always remained there until the fallout in a family that forced her to run because of something they thought she did but it really been someone she was trying to help and then ended up leaving her to pick up the pieces of her theft, making her realize that they would never love her, never really care for her, and never really think of her as their daughter because one mistake had made them turn their backs to her without giving it the benefit of a doubt. Because to them she would always be the girl from the foster home, the girl who'd robbed once and could surely do it again even if it meant having everything now. That's who they thought she was, unable to see her different, because they were convinced of the kind of girl she was and decided to carry on with an adoption anyway; all the while thinking that she'd finally found somewhere to belong, somewhere to walk through the door after without hesitation, somewhere she knew she could return to after having a bad day. But that was all for her to realize it had been too good to be true, because when the social worker asked for her name and she automatically said " _Emma Swan"_ , the pattern repeated all over again in a taunt in her face again and again to remind her of who she was and where she would always come back to.

Why thinking about him had led her to think about that was something she refused to actknowledge, but deep down she knew. It was because not having a room of her own had followed her all her life. Even now that she actually had a room all for herself, it still didn't feel like her own. It felt exactly like all the other rooms she'd walked in, foster home after foster home, that all ended up in the same result.

And coming to her room in her apartment was no different. Maybe it was even more worse now that she was completely alone. Yet--and she'd lost count of how many times she'd cursed herself already--she had felt something when they were both in the motion of falling and how he'd instantly wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her to him, so gentle and firm that the shock of him doing that was more than the shock of them toppling over. Or at least that's how it seemed after it all happened and she'd stayed in the bug for a while thinking it over, almost analyzing everything she could in her mind before it slipped away even though half of if had already in the fumes of her anger and drive back to her building. It was stupid. She was stupid.  _Don't be stupid, Emma._ But the feeling she'd felt, the opposite of being alone, of him being there with her in that very moment, and not just in the physical way, it sparked up something. Just a little. Something that had never been there in any foster home she'd first been put in or later taken to. It was what her room had been lacking this entire time, all the years she'd finally resigned. And it scared her, but it also felt nice. That small 'nice' was what left it to stick, cling to the lies she'd stopped letting herself drift off to since she was a kid. But suddenly there she was, a grown ass woman about to turn 25, laying on her bed and staring up at the ceiling, actually letting her mind go to the fantasy she used to imagine for herself to help her get to sleep, back to what she naively used to hope for. And all because of him for some reason.

She hated it. 

Bu it helped her exactly the way it used to help her when she was still a little girl; it helped her find sleep. In a weird way, not alone.

Then she woke up on Saturday with a good amount of hatred for herself, even calling herself desperate and  _you probably need a one night stand_ for reversing back to the things her little self used to dream about, so she concentrated on how that smirk had seemed mocking and how the way he stood had seemed so full of himself, and it was the reminder she needed to go about her Saturday the way she usually did. Because she couldn't feel any of that feeling she thought she'd felt when she'd never felt that feeling in any of her foster homes she'd been at, therefore she couldn't bring herself to know how that feeling felt, and much less think it had been that.

No. She'd truthfully hadn't spent the daylight part of her Saturday replaying the moment again and again, but she blamed Graham for making her give up her Saturday in the first place because it was her hardest day with nothing to distract herself with, therefore it was the perfect day for the moment to hit her weakness by playing itself in her head with or without her permission. Sunday had been easier, but the moment had found a way to sneak in whenever any part of her sat still, so today she'd walked in, intent on only focusing on getting Will Scarlet, up until someone had decided to bring the damn article over and give her a full blown reminder of exactly who she'd been trying to forget the entire--

"So you're still going to read it?"

"No," She snapped, replying too quickly and earning herself a chuckle from Graham as she saw him shake his head out of the corner of her eye but didn't glance up, only keeping her focus on the words in front of her, getting disgusted by them by every passing minute as she skimmed through it again, scowling at the part where they thought she and Killian Jones were an item-- _Ha,idiots--_ but really the thought of him being connected to her in any way--even as simple as an article--began a little flicker of irritation that they could manipulate something as a one time encounter--because it had just been that: A dumb encounter--and then turn it into a load of crap for people to eat up, all for an arrogant singer she had the displeasure of having in front of her and now because of that her face was plastered on the whole of 2 pages, being thought of as 'The potential girlfriend' when really jumping on that stage had been the move of a huge impulse and was really starting to feel the regret of it in a thousand different words staring back at her.

Finally closing the magazine with a slap and dropping it onto her desk, she looked at Graham, who's gaze now settled on his computer as he clicked around something on the screen, but then sensing she was looking at him (since they were still the only two people in) his eyes went to her, and she crossed her arms. "Where did you even get this?"

_Stupid question, Emma_ was the first thing that came to her mind as soon as the words left her mouth because he was a goddamn singer! Where would he not get it?.

Still, she pursed her lips when he shrugged. "Figured you'd already seen it," but then he looked at her in disbelief and she immediately felt defensive when he began motioning with his hand. "and how could you not? It was literally all over the media on Saturday morning, not even a few hours in after the said 'concert' was supposed to be held--"

Emma cut him off. "I'm not interested in some arrogant guy's gossip life, Graham."

"Oh, arrogant now, is he?," He dryly said as he turned around in his chair while tapping his pen to his knee until he finally finished the turn to look at her pointedly with a tilt of his head; she only sat there, staring at him, internally hoping he wouldn't mention how she'd just read over the article at least 6 times in the last 20 minutes he'd been here when she'd just claimed she wasn't interested on his gossip life, and yet for whatever reason she couldn't get to summon up right now, this particular choice of gossip had caught some of her interest. And she still didn't like the type of tone he was using; The kind that had insinuations behind it. Insinuations that he would come straight out with him or just keep to himself, but he was Graham and most of the time he was downright honest with her but not in the blunt way. Like the blunt way she'd known one other person in her life do. No. Graham was different. His way inched to the caring side, and she had to admit she didn't understand why most of the time but respected when he chose to keep whatever things to himself--she knew way too much about that, after all--because right now there was a trace of hurt in his features she didn't understand, but was there nonetheless, and both he and her knew she wouldn't be the one to ask to reach out, so of course she ended up doing the one stupid thing in her confusion.

"What's that supposed to mean?," She spit out and regretted it almost as fast as it left her mouth without thought because it was a clear reminder that he was her boss, and she really had no right to be talking to him like that even if he more than enough times made sure to let her know that they were friends. And they were friends. Almost the minute since she first walked into the office a couple years ago he'd been the first one to approach her and welcome her and helped her get accustomed and just been...nice. Nice was something she wasn't used to so she pulled away, but then he'd gotten promoted and she'd felt genuinely proud and happy for him even though it left her feeling weird too. There hadn't been any people in her life she could feel proud and happy for, so when she felt it for him, it came as a first, and that's when she realized that maybe they were friends in some way because friends could feel happy and proud for each other. It didn't change anything, though, so her voice lowered afterward and came out with a firmness that suited her professional side as she said, "I'm sorry."

He sighed," It's okay," and then something in his voice seemed to change too;becoming tentative and cautious as he delivered the next news to her, being careful with her eyes as she fidgeted with her fingers, deciding to look back to her screen, bear claw forgotten. "you know I was thinking maybe we could reassign your assignment with Scarlet. Postpone it for a while and then you could get back to it. I already have another one ready for you, could take a few days at most, and then you can return to the one at hand," He shrugged. "Personally I think it'd be good for you."

To that she felt her shoulders stiffen. "What?"

_He doesn't need to think anything._

Graham only smiled a gentle smile but she didn't actually actknowledge it with one of her own; instead refusing to look away from the small list of promising locations that she'd been working on before he entered, while he folded his hands together in front of him, seeming to be completely unaware of how mad he'd just made her or perhaps not wanting to take note of it. The latter probably, but she kept her face impassive; the way she'd done in a lot of foster care homes, blank and closed. Perfectly guarded of any emotion she didn't want to be seen unless she allowed it ; she remembered the way it used to hurt her face after keeping it on for hours, and now with it suddenly back on, it began to hurt more quickly. "Yeah, look, I know you've been focused on Scarlet, but after that stage jump, I...well I just think you need some time away from that search to focus on another one--"

"Woah, woah, woah," Emma finally turned her head to him. "this isn't about that stupid article, is it?," she picked the magazine up, waving it in the air in his direction. "because I get it. It was impulsive and I shouldn't have jumped like that, but I thought I was going to get him. He's just," her teeth grit. "really damn lucky, but that doesn't mean that you have to switch my case for another one when I've been working on this one for months, and nobody else has managed to gather as much information on him as I have so why--"

"Emma, you work obsessively."

That hit like a punch to the gut.

Because he was right.

_This is all I have_ was all she could pathetically think but didn't dare speak the words as a way to defend herself because he'd already seen enough without her even meaning him to, and that was enough to make her pull away and punch herself as hard as his words did to her because he'd seen little glimpses and she couldn't afford that. Couldn't afford for him to see the way she coped; the way she escaped by throwing herself into a case and apparently becoming such a workaholic that it was starting to affect her decisions.

He was seeing that. Seeing all of it.

So she swallowed the lump in her throat and looked directly into his eyes when she said, "Okay. I'll do the other case."

"Excellent." He stood up, giving her a smile she could only take as pity, and he walked over to her desk to drop a manila folder on top of the magazine; she looked down at it before moving her chair in so she could open the folder to reveal the new case--and man--she was supposed to catch as she skimmed through the list of info and then read over the summary of his background, immediately feeling the wrinkle in her forehead she did when she began to concentrate and knowing he could see that, she cleared her throat and he nodded, going back over to his desk.

"So how long do you think it will take you?," He casually asked, sitting back down and beginning to riffle through some other folders as she kept her gaze on the one in front of her, picking up the details she needed.

"Well if this dating site goes well, then maybe Thursday."

"Maybe?"

She looked up, "Thursday, definitely."

* * *

Sitting cross-legged on her bed with the lights off and her laptop in front of her giving a white glow that reflected on her dark rimmed square shaped glasses, she knew it would be Thursday because of how easy the 'conversation' with the guy already seemed to be going: He was showing interest and she was faking interest by keeping it going with flirtatious messages back and emoji winks to get him trapped there until she was sure it was really him--because it had happened in her more early inexperienced years when she'd set up the date with the guy she was set to incarcerate but it had turned out to be a poor helpless victim that had actually been expecting her in that short tight black dress, but then she'd left with a quick apology, completely annoyed with herself for not having properly checked--so while she'd been online with constant back and forth for the past hour, she'd also been on another tab verifying who he was, what he'd done, past crimes, and comparing pictures of his face to the ones on his profile, ending with a proud smirk when both pictures showed to be alike, meaning she could speed things up because it had only been two days since she'd sent the request and he was already inching towards meeting and talking face to face, letting her confirm just how much makeup and the right type of clothing could be used to make a man lose his senses to the fire it could spark to the male's need to quell his hunger.

Even she wasn't even remotely peaked in the slightest to continue in the site once the job was done, always immediately deleting all planted pictures and false information she'd given about what her favorite color was to vanish completely and never join again unless it was to make a new profile to get yet another runner; Truthfully she'd never missed the 'So how was your day?' that they almost always asked because she knew it wasn't real and there was nothing to be expected there except for her to be obedient to her purpose and respond with a 'Good. How was your day?'. But some still managed to surprise her from time to time when the message came and it seemed so close to caring that she almost believed that maybe they did, but she never let that surprise stay for long, letting it do its crossing and then leave to never cross again until someone managed to surprise her again and it would be just as dismissed as the last. Only one time had she ever let the surprise stay and that was when she'd sat on the swings of an abandoned carnival he'd gotten them into, and they'd talked about home; a conversation that up ti'll now still burned bright in her mind because that was probably the first time she'd ever felt connected to someone, sitting there, hearing his voice, just the two of them in a place otherwise silent while they spoke of what they both lacked and seemed to really bond through that, until even that blew up in her face and he turned out to be just another person she never should have let take her by surprise.

Each surprise hurt in the end.

She'd learned to wait for the end.

Yet the way they'd talked that late night under the dark sky with the moon above them had stayed with her. That had become her favorite way of talking, because while the rest of the world felt safe speaking their heart through a screen, she wanted different. She wanted seeing their eyes as they spoke, following the words that came out as she focused on the voice, listening attentively and taking in the movements they made when they talked about something as fragile as home because how long gone that person was now, he'd left that with her. How it felt to have the person there. It had been a time in her more naive stage but it had stayed through the rest because it helped her see if the person she was talking to was being real, being honest, being true, and not just saying the words they thought all woman wanted to hear. No. That night he'd been honest about home. One of the few things he'd actually been honest about.

Emma sighed when the new message dinged in, and it flit her eyes away from the dark outside her window she'd been staring at, pulling her out of thinking of the same dark that had been around them that had somehow felt lighter because he'd been there to share the dark with her. And now she was here, having gotten too lost in the surprise of someone who had hurt her too deeply for her to ever feel okay with something as simple as an ' _I do care about you, Emma.'_

**Ryan: Well, I'll be going to sleep. Work tomorrow.**

20 minutes had passed.  _Dammit._

**Emma: Oh, you're right. Me too. Talk tomorrow, same time?.**

**Ryan: Of course.**

**Emma: Just don't keep me waiting too long.**

**Ryan: Settled.**

**Ryan: Goodnight, Emma.**

**Emma: Night, Ryan.**

Closing the laptop with its slight click being the only sound in the room for a minute as she holds her breath, eyes being caught in the reflection staring back at her on the window's pane; the moon's glow helping filter it and procuring so that only half of her face was seen because the other was swallowed up by the light, hidden off by the side she was able to see. Because there she was. There she was in her dirty haired mess of a ponytail, acquainted by the fading pink of her t-shirt and old worn grey sweatpants, all finally accompanied by the always rimmed glasses she'd had when she met him that year of her 18. Having the moment to take those glasses in, she removed them from her face to place them on the nightstand, knowing that right now she was being reminded far too much of the years when she was more young, more naive, more desperate to belong somewhere, and those glasses only took her to the time when her vulnerabilities had been most exposed and most out in the open for her to regret later.

Why she still had the glasses, sometimes she didn't know, when they were a clear reminder of the weaker stage in her life, but yet she held on to them despite being able to afford contacts. It was times like these, when the clock read: 11:35 PM, almost Wednesday, silent and alone, that the woman staring back at her turned into the girl she'd once been. And it hit hard. Because sometimes she missed the girl and how not in solitude she'd been for that brief period before it all fell to handcuffs and isolation in 4 walls. And she would take the glasses off and the girl would be gone, only Emma staring back.

It filled her with relief.

Shaking her head out of her stoop, she opened the laptop again and then her eyes glanced to the magazine sitting forgotten on the floor under her bed where she'd thrown it after getting back from the office on Monday, having snatched it from her desk when Graham wasn't looking. And for what? She really didn't know. She'd just done it and now two days later it was still there. She really didn't understand why she was hesitating so much to throw it away, but still unwilling to let it go she let the magazine stay where it was and instead saw her fingers race to type in  'Killian Jones songs', biting her lip when she realized what she was doing but not having the time to back out when all the videos popped up on her screen for her to scroll down through in less than a second later. And her eyes ended up caught in the first album that appeared.

The other album was there too, but frankly 'Revenge Heart' didn't sound as appealing as 'Ocean's Call'. Or maybe it was. She couldn't be sure, but she knew 'Ocean's Call' was his first and oldest album while 'Revenge Heart' was the second and latest in the last two years. And yet there was something different about the first. Maybe that was what pulled her attention because of the heavy distinct in cover that the first had with the other. She couldn't help compare when they were both there because something about the first was enough to make her want to listen to an actual song inside. Despite only staring at it, she knew there were many heartfelt songs in there simply by the way he was portrayed on the front with only his face to his shoulders showing as his eyes were focused on something beyond what she couldn't see but could guess was the ocean by the way the bits of sand seemed to be blowing in the background--almost not noticeable--,reflecting themselves in a beautiful golden at his side but leaving the white shirt he was wearing to stay blank and clean, giving it an illusion to show he felt peace by the color as part of his arm could be seen reaching out to what was beyond but was most likely the water tide because of the way the wind seemed to be blowing his hair back, letting bits of hair be caught in their dance as the way the picture was taken also seemed to catch his mouth in the middle of saying something towards the blue, marking the title of the album 'Ocean's Call', making it seem like he himself was calling out to the ocean and at the same time relishing in it as he got closer, but there was still something he needed to say because of the way whatever sun was above him, hidden, also seemed to cast part of his body in a shadow, telling her there was some form of bad still stuck in between all the light in the place he felt most calm.

_Crap._

She loved it. She loved the cover. She loved all of it.

Exhaling, she leaned back against the headboard at a loss for why that cover had somehow managed to peak her interest and also recognizing the feeling of a beginning annoyance for why she couldn't just let this go and move on. Instead she was stuck and she didn't know why. Maybe because of that moment they'd had?. But regardless, every time she thought about that moment, it led to thinking about his voice despite how long faded it was now in her mind, only still able to come to the light because of the way she remembered it had affected her the minute her ears took it in. So maybe that was it. Maybe that's what she needed. To get rid of the itch she had for wanting-- _Why am I admitting this--_ to hear his voice again, and then she could move on and finally throw away that stupid magazine waiting for her to give in under the bed.

It was weird, but she felt like he was challenging her. That damn smirk splayed across his face as he looked her in the eyes and said " _Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it"_   instead of " _Are you alright, love?"_. And she didn't like it.

So she dove in, clicking on the first song that was on the list of his first album, and then she sat back.

The lyrics immediately filled up the room, and she was frozen just as she'd been the first time to his voice, only this time she would listen to the whole of it with no one in her space but her and his song as the words spilled from the audio.

Closing her eyes, she listened.

(Guitar begins to strum)

(First verse)

_So, I've been searching,_

_Went and hid myself in some deep, dark corner,_

_Infused by my sorrow,_

_Got me nowhere when I put all my hope in a bottle and then let it sail away,_

_Cause so far that's all I've been good for,_

_So far that's all I've known,_

_After so many places, I end up back at my same regret,_

_Took me by mistake to think I could have been held by those arms,_

_Told myself don't believe it,_

_But when you got it you don't hesitate..._

 

(Pre-chorus)

_Cause if they take you in,_

_If they ask of your day,_

_And if they choose to brave the waters with you then isn't that what I've been looking for?,_

_I was wrong..._

 

(Chorus) 

_So then I do what I do best,_

_And I run,_

_Fall into the blue only to tell myself it's okay,_

_And I go on chasing lies cause that's all I've ever known,_

_It's all I've ever known,_

_All I've ever known,_

_It's all I've ever known for quite some time,_

_For quite some time._

 

(Verse 2)

_Maybe I shouldn't have believed so fast,_

_Maybe I should have held a harder guard,_

_Then maybe I could have saved myself some hurt,_

_But damn, I never learn,_

_Damn, I never stop,_

_I never give up this hope,_

_The tide comes in and sweeps me in,_

_For once it's just the sand that feels like my own,_

_I don't gotta squint around when it's just the deep to surround,_

_Except the space then felt right,_

_They spoke of a warmth,_

_And I..._

_I become smoke._

 

_(_ Pre-chorus)

_Cause if they take you in,_

_If they ask of your day,_

_And if they choose to brave the waters with you then isn't that what I've been looking for?,_

_I was wrong..._

(Chorus)

_So I do what I do best,_

_And I run,_

_Cause it's all I've ever known,_

_It's all I've ever known,_

_Yeah, it's all I've ever known,_

_And I fall into the blue only to tell myself it's okay,_

_Cause it's all I've ever known,_

_For quite some time..._

 

(Verse 3)

_Yet I don't shy,_

_Love, I navigate,_

_I've steered my own ship for quite some time,_

_And that's never felt more alone,_

_Cause it's how I've held on for so long,_

_And if it's all I've ever known for quite some time then it's all I need,_

_And for quite some time that's been my lie,_

_It's just how I survived,_

_Cause for quite some time that's all I've ever known,_

_For quite some time that's all..._

 

 

(Guitar strum begins to fade)

_All I've ever known..._

_For quite some time..._

_For..quite..some...time._

_Quite some time._

 

Emma took a moment to breathe once his voice was gone, leaving the room in the silence from before as she opens her eyes to look down at the autoplay already loading the next song, but she only heard and felt her hand do the motion when her laptop was suddenly slammed shut with a violent close that startled even her as if she was outside her own body and been watching her anger give away before finally coming back to herself to push the laptop away from her because damn, she hated it.

All of it.

Every word.

Every strum.

His whole voice as he sang with raw emotion.

She couldn't be more disgusted as she glared at the source.

Because damn, she'd been mesmerized for all 3 minutes.

And she hated that even more than she hated it when she opened her laptop again and listened to the next. And the next. And the one after that.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang in there guys, Emma and Killian will meet soon, VERY soon. That's all I can say before I find myself giving it away because as promised, a slow burn is a slow burn. Thank you for reading!


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